Letting Go
by unavoidable-k
Summary: He'd seen eight pairs of eyes open for the very first time. He'd seen eight mouths speak words for the very first time. He'd seen eight of his creations walk out of door and into the collapse of humanity for the first and last time. The interactions between a creator and his creations.
1. One

The tiny, ragged doll lies limply in the leathery palm of it's creator. The light from the lamp beams down upon it like a heavenly ray and the creator silently wishes it's awakening. Seconds pass and the creator's prayers are answered when the optics of the tiny doll flicker suddenly.

It squints upwards, eyes slanted, and it glares at the light. The creator would've liked to note the odd change in optic shape in exposure to light, but he's too breath taken by the awakening of his creation. It's a part of him. A part of his soul.

His fingers are gently closed around the doll, and as it blinks vacantly, it begins to struggle against the creator's grip. He writhes around, pulling at the oversized human fingers with it's blunt claws, grunting as it does so. The creator chuckles lightly, despite feeling weak. He lowers his hand and gently sets the doll onto the table. The creature rolls onto it's side and steps down from his hand, and the creator spies the number he himself had inked onto his back.

1

One steps out of the light's ray as he inspects the workshop with caution, before looking up at the human, his creator, who is gazing down at him with satisfaction.

"Hello, One."

One is somewhat taken aback by the greeting as he stares back up at the human. He opens his mouth and he looks somewhat unsure of what to say. The creator wonders just how self-aware his creation is.

"Hello."

His voice crackles slightly, after all it's the first time he's used it. The odd expression on his face signals that he is unfamiliar with his own voice. He makes a noise similar to somebody clearing their throat, as his hands instinctively clasp behind his back.

He looks up at the creator with a fierce eye.

"Do you know why I created you?" The creator asks, softly, for he is tired. One's optics dart towards the window, but outside lies pure darkness. One shakes his head.

"I fear the world may be ending." He says gravely, but One's face remains unchanged. "I have created a machine unlike anything I had before, but it was taken from me. It's being manipulated for the purpose of war. You know what war is, don't you?"

"Of course I do, I'm not an idiot."

The harsh response takes the creator by surprise, but he smiles. This tiny little creature he's created with his very own soul, almost like a child, has what seems like it's very own personality. It's been alive for five minutes and it's already clear what kind of person it is.

"Don't misunderstand, I wasn't trying to patronise you. After all, you're the very first of my creations that..." He trails off, glancing at the numerous books on alchemy that are stacked under his desk. "...I was unsure of just how much you know of this world."

"I know enough, I'm sure."

There's a glint in the creator's eye and he takes it as a challenge. "I don't doubt that at all, but of the things you must know, it's about the situation that this world is in."

"The world is at war."

"Yes, but do you know why?"

One takes a seat on a nearby book as he contemplates the question. "War happens for multiple reasons but if I'd had to make an educated guess..."

He pauses for quite a while, looking down at the table with his, what the creator has now realised is permanent, slanted eyes.

"I'd say the government of this country is making use of your machine against other countries. I'm unaware of just how they're managing that but I assume this country is under a dictatorship that becoming more powerful and harder to overthrow."

The creator stares wide-eyed at the doll; he adjusts his glasses to inspect his creation closer. A smile graces his lips. Was his knowledge passed down to this little creature?

"How did you know that?"

"There's a poster promoting the revolt of the war pinned to the back of your door."

The creator reels back and, true to One's word, there is, in fact, a poster on the back of his door. He begins to laugh, though One remains stony silent.

"You're absolutely right! My machine was stolen by the Chancellor of this country for the purpose of war."

"And that's why you created me? I fail to see what help I would be." He says lowly and a cynical smile forms on his lips. The creator silently marvels in how expressive his little creation is, even if his attitude did leave something to be desired.

"My machine is being used to build more machines to fight against other countries. You see, the BRAIN is an intelligent creature. It learns things; it craves knowledge but I fear it's been warped beyond repair."

"I understand it's a dangerous situation but I still fail to see what prompted my creation. The war will end, whether it takes five, ten or fifty years."

"Yes, if it were fought with humans. The BRAIN is smart. It's easy for them to create a machine hellbent on destroying humanity. That's the worst-case scenario, you see? We cannot allow that to happen, no matter what."

"And your very first thought was to create a six-inch doll? Ingenious, truly." One snarks and the creator smiles wistfully.

"You hold a greater power than you might imagine, but the true power lies in the rest."

"There are more?"

"Not yet, but soon there will be. You are but the first of your kind and you must understand if anything happens to us, the world lies in your hands."

One's expression has changed to something like worry, before it twists into annoyance. "Why? You're incapable of fixing your own mistakes. Creating machines in the likeness of humans is what brought you to this mess and you think doing the exact same thing will fix it?" He snaps, but the creator is passive.

"The BRAIN was never created in the likeness of humans." He wonders if this is really true.

One opens his mouth to argue and he looks utterly exasperated, but he shuts his mouth and sighs. A thin veil of silence drifts over the room.

"One, you hold a very important role in your group, or at least, you will do." The creator knows that One will be the only eligible leader. He knows the rest of his creations will serve a purpose. One is stubborn and will be invested in his own ways. He has pride in himself and that can be both a blessing and a curse.

Whether or not One will make a good leader is another story.

"Tonight, I plan to release you into the world. It's up to you to find the rest as they are created. You are the oldest; you must protect them. They are your family."

One's eyes are now oddly large and the creator can recognise this as fear, something he'd never wish to see in his creations.

"I know it's scary." He says softly, as if consoling a child, "But it's necessary."

One's optics snap back into their normal slanted position as he snaps, "I'll have you know I'm not scared. I just don't appreciate having to solve the mistakes you've left behind."

The creator sighs, because really, he has made many mistakes, but he does not regret making the BRAIN. He knows deep down how much destruction it will cause and he knows it will have to be eliminated for the good of humanity, but he will always be proud of it. It will always be one of his greatest creations.

A small smile appears on his face as he imagines telling that to the little doll before him. He imagines the offence on One's face and it's rather humorous.

"One..." He begins, as the sadness that he will have to let his creation go sets in, "...I will be releasing you in a short while. I know it may not be the most ideal situation for you, but you know there is no other choice."

One looks down, solemn and reluctant. He knows this is his fate, whether he likes it or not. He looks back up, expression grave, yet accepting. He nods silently, and silently pads towards the edge of the table in the direction of the door. The creator helps him into his hand and takes him to the door, all the while, he's silently savouring the time he's holding the doll in his palm. It's like the affection between a parent and a child; this creature is a part of him.

He sets him down on the step, and opens the door a crack, enough for One to slip out. The creator crouches down and watches him leave.

"Goodbye, One."

He receives no response.


	2. Two

The creator's exhaustion has only furthered since the birth of One, but he's excited nonetheless, after all, this will be the second of his creations; the second part of his soul.

He wonders, as the doll lays in his hand, if he will be any different from One and, if so, how much so. His breath hitches as the dolls eyes open. Unlike last time, his fingers are open and not clasped around the doll. The tiny creature, rather mismatched in materials, sits up and leaves his hand almost immediately. He wonders if the little thing is aware of his presence.

2

After looking around the room, Two looks up at him with wide, curious eyes. He looks worried, as he reaches up to take one of the creator's fingers in his hands. The creator marvels in how truly sympathetic his creation looks, but ignores how pathetic he himself must look at this moment.

He smiles, anyway.

"Hello, Two."

And to his surprise...

...Two smiles back.

The creator can feel his mouth drop open, because to see his very own creation do something as simple and as pure as smiling, is genuinely a breathtakingly beautiful thing to witness.

His own smile widens when Two replies with a quiet, "Hello."

He isn't all too sure what to say. Unlike One, he is clearly not a leader, and he isn't all too sure about starting off by telling Two just what he created him for, but he know Two will eventually ask.

"How are you?" Two asks, politely, as he begins to make his way to the edge of the table. The creator's smile widens once more because this is truly something to behold.

"Not too well, I'm afraid." He admits, as he helps Two down onto the floor. Two looks mildly worried by this. He tilts his head, eager for his creator to explain.

"I must be honest with you. We are in the midst of a war."

Two looks very grave and the creator is sad to see his previously happy expression disappear, but it's unavoidable. He has no choice.

"I see..." Two mutters, "...is that why I'm here?"

The creator nods silently. Two smiles, although it's sorrowful. "I understand."

They stay silent for a moment, because there isn't a sure way to progress. It's a sad moment that isn't easily broken, but if Two is as optimistic as he hopes, he will manage it.

"This is your workshop?" He cracks a small smile, as he looks around at the piles of books, scrap metal and blueprints littered around the place. He leans down and picks up a discarded thimble.

"Indeed it is." The creator sits back in his chair and watches Two carry the thimble over to the empty corner of the room and place it down; his optics dart to another part of the room. "It's fantastic." He compliments, as he retrieves a screw that had been lodged between the floorboards.

The human chuckles, as Two walks back over to the corner and places the screw inside the thimble, looking around for more things to pick up. He's a curious and creative one, he can tell. He wonders just what incredible things this creature might make.

"Are there more of...well, me?" Two asks, brightly, as he drags an oddly bent piece of metal over to 'his' corner. The creator inhales as he remembers the departure of One not too long ago and worries because it's very possible One might be in pieces out there. The only thought that can quell his worry is that if One is very much alive and well, he will finally have a companion to aid him.

"Well, you are number two aren't you?" He says in an oddly joking manner. Two makes a good friend and he's upset that he will have to inevitably release him, just like One.

"Then I assume there's a 'One'?" He looks excited by the prospect of a friend like him and the creator wishes he'd be able to watch them meet for the first time. One would be stubborn and standoffish and Two would be friendly and caring. It's an odd mix, but he's sure they will be able to work together.

"Absolutely. I released him not too long ago."

Two glances towards the window, where daylight streams in languidly. "Out there?" He questions, clearly concerned, because, he too, will have to venture out there.

"Yes. I hope you will be able to find him easily enough. I have a feeling he isn't too far. After all, he is expecting you." The creator avoids telling Two outright that he will have to release him, because he too does not want to let him go.

Two seems to understand anyway.

"Then...I will leave tonight!" He says, with a smile. He has no fear, it's clear to see, and the creator feels something welling in his chest and throat. He's courageous, even if he lacks strength. It's an admirable quality.

The creator watches, as Two begins to build a pile of things he finds interesting, or things he deems useful and not only is it calming to watch, but it's intriguing. The doll has a mind of it's own. It possesses it's own thoughts and feelings, and to create something that amazing is incredible.

It's an odd thing to feel, but to the creator, these dolls aren't just a part of him. They're like his children; he made them and seeing them venture out into the world is both beautiful and horrifying, like a mother watching their child go to school for the very first time.

"Ahem...uh..." Two isn't quite sure what to call him. The creator realises he may have been dozing off, but he looks at Two with a questioning smile. "Yes?"

"Do you mind if...I take some of this with me?" The smile on his face can only be described as devilish and the creator cannot help but laugh. There are great things ahead for this one, he can tell.

"Of course you can."

"Thank you. Ah, one other thing..." He presses his fingertips together in an oddly nervous manner. "...how many of us do you plan to create?"

How many, exactly? The creator isn't sure. He isn't sure if his body can take it.

"I'm unsure, though if I'd have to make an estimate...I'd say...nine?"

Two grins. "Nine? That's an odd number. Why not ten?"

The creator smiles, ruefully. "If only I could. I'm not sure I would live to create a tenth."

A few seconds of silence passes and the creator registers the alarm on Two's face.

"Are you...dying?" His voice is very quiet, almost a squeak now, and the creator wants nothing more than to pick Two up and tell him it will all be okay, but even he doesn't know that for sure. He'd feel he'd be lying to not only his creation, but to himself as well.

"Not...technically, no. I'm in good health, as far as I can tell." He says, because it's not a complete lie, really...maybe...probably...

Two looks down at the pile he's accumulated. He picks out parts he is sure will aid him in the future. He picks out the screw he'd dislodged from the floorboards and slips it inside himself, past the shoelace that is keeping him tied together.

"It was very nice to meet you..." Two begins. His words are sad, but he remains hopeful for the future, he can see it in his smile. "...I will go out and find One." He beams and he is truly a pure soul. A ray of light in the darkness cast by the actions of humanity.

The creator feels he can truly let his fate and the fate of humanity lie in this little man's hands. Even if his battle is lost, even if he dies, this one will find a way, for that is the reason he created him.

One and Two are only the beginning. He is sure they will impart their wisdom down to the others when he is unable to. He trusts them.

"Good luck to you, Two." His voice breaks slightly because he is utterly exhausted and he wants nothing more than to sleep but he knows he must continue to work. Sleep is a luxury for him, now.

Two smiles at him and whatever hope he had for the future is increased tenfold.

"And good luck to you. Goodbye."

He sighs, almost in relief, as Two pushes the door ajar.

"Goodbye."

But he is already gone.


	3. Three and Four

He'd had these two planned from the very moment his eye caught the pair of old gardening gloves on the windowsill; a shadow of an old hobby of his. Both gloves would make for perfectly good material, and therefore, would create two perfectly good creations.

He didn't want to make one without the other. They would be twins, after all.

Except imparting his soul to them both in succession was more draining than he could ever imagine. If he had been tired before, it was nothing compared to now. He wobbled slightly, as he picked up the two dolls, holding one in each hand as he awaited their awakening.

The moment they opened their optics, he knew just what they were like. One's optics were harsh and angry, Two's were kind and sympathetic, and as for these two...

3 and 4

Their optics reflected the eyes of a curious child, full of wonder and eager to learn about the world around them, after all that's why he created them. Humanity needed something to teach them about their mistakes of the past. A clear reminder of just what destruction can be caused.

But before the creator can blink, they're gone! Straight from his hand, onto the table, and for a moment they grip onto each other, inspecting each other, because Three is Four and Four is Three and they will be together for a very long time, he knows.

It's a short introduction to one another, because they have instantly recognised each other as siblings and that's all it takes, because now they're speeding off to the other side of the table, towards a stack of books he keeps around for no discernible reason.

He can only watch, awestruck, as they tear through the pages, retaining the information instantly before placing the book back down and moving onto the next. They don't even seem too bothered by the presence of their creator, because their work starts now and nothing is going to get in the way between them and the knowledge they crave.

And the creator is certainly not going to interfere in their intellectual endeavours.

Except...

He spies the two voice-boxes left on the table; he'd completely forgotten to implement them! He didn't want to interrupt their journey through his collection of books, but they weren't quite finished yet.

He took the voice-boxes in his hand and slowly, cautiously, approached them. They don't pause for a second, as their eyes scan the pages. He decides he'll wait until they're done.

And before he knows it, they're finished. They both look around the room, before looking back up at the creator, almost expectantly. As if they're silently saying, 'You bought us into this world to learn, but you only have seven books?'

He laughs as he brandishes the voice-boxes. "I have others, don't you worry, but for now I just need to-"

And they're off. Not only is the prospect of new books exciting to them, but he knows that this is a little game to them and he's going to have to catch them. He sags a little, sighing, before turning on his heel to hunt down the little dolls that are skittering across his workshop floor.

He knew if these voice-boxes were in their bodies and not in his hand, they'd be laughing.

He finds them, finally, behind another hefty stack of books, and once more, they're destroying the pages with their optics. The rate they process information is absolutely unbelievable and he knows he's done a good job.

With all this running around, he doesn't have the chance to think about how he's going to have to let them go, which is for the best because these two have such a childlike innocence about them and he can't bear to release them into that war zone.

He hasn't the heart to explain, but he knows they will learn.

By now, they've demolished three piles of books, several of his blueprints (he laughs when Three picks up the blueprint that depicts them and Four, and he points between the picture and Four with a big grin) and his diary.

He's somewhat concerned. He has, no doubt, recorded details of the situation of humanity in his journal, yet the twins remained unfazed by such information. They're too preoccupied by their pursuit of knowledge, or perhaps, they know full well and they're just doing what they were quite literally built to do.

By this point, he's given up trying to give them their voice-boxes; curiously enough, they function well without them, communicating through a series of clicks and flashes even he didn't know they could perform.

More importantly, he needs them to be able to communicate with humanity, after all they will be teachers. They will be there to remind humanity of it's grave mistakes and he supposes books will be the way to do that.

He sits down, and finally realises just how much those two have taken out of him. He merely watches as they hunt down every book in his laboratory and devour the knowledge from it. It's truly a joy to watch.

But, unfortunately, it comes to an end. He doesn't possess an unlimited amount of books; there's only so much he can provide for them before they must venture out in the world and seek more.

It hits him rather hard when they look at him expectantly, like they had before. He doesn't want to let them go. He hadn't wanted to let Two go and he hadn't wanted to let One go, but it was unavoidable; just like the raging war outside.

He leans down to them with a gentle smile.

"If it's more books you're after, there is a library just north of here."

He can see their faces light up suddenly. The prospect of more books is clearly exciting to them.

He blinks and before he has the chance to say 'goodbye'...

...they're gone.


	4. Five

As the creator continues to create the dolls, he begins to make them with a bit more care; implementing different things into each one. It's like a learning curve, almost. He thinks this as he finishes inking the back of his newest creation...

5

The creator braces himself for Five to jump from his hand, but is surprised when he doesn't. Five's optics open almost instantly, and he sits up, almost curling in on himself as he does so. He looks up at the creator with wide, almost uncertain optics, but there's something like trust behind it.

He slowly lowers his hand, and sets Five down on the table. Five glances around, but makes no move to explore the area. He's waiting for the creator to do something. Say something.

"Hello, Five."

He speaks gently, because although Five trusts him, he's visibly timid. Five seems to brighten up a little as he responds.

"H-Hi..."

He smiles widely, and Five smiles back, just as Two had done and immediately, he can tell Five and Two would have a strong relationship. Two will be able to impart the wisdom that he never could. It's a comforting thought.

For a moment, he hopes One and Two have found each other and hopefully the twins as well.

As for Five, he has yet to move. He has yet to explore his surroundings like the others. He's shy, clearly, and is waiting to be introduced to the world he's just been born into.

"I'm afraid your companions have left already." He smiles, because although he may not want to, he must coax Five out and convince him to find the others. He's a pure soul and the others will need him.

Five looks somewhat downcast by this.

"Oh, don't worry, they haven't abandoned you. You see, I sent them out with a mission and you too will have to join them." He doesn't want to scare the poor thing. The others accepted their fate with minimal resistance, but he isn't so sure convincing Five will be so easy.

"A mission...?" Five squeaks, wringing his hands together in a manner the creator can identify with.

"A mission. They will explain it to you when you find them, I'm sure, but for a short explanation, humanity is on the brink of destruction. I created you to help save the world." It sounded far-fetched, but there was no other way to describe it.

Five looked momentarily horrified as he glanced at the window. They can hear the harsh noises of war outside the building and he shakes his head in a blur of disagreement.

"N-No, no, no...I can't...!" His voice is crackling slightly and he's genuinely afraid. The creator can empathise because he, too, is afraid. He doesn't want to fight either but he has no choice.

"Five..." He isn't sure what will console the small doll. He can't make a situation like war look good. There is nothing good about it. The world is full of fear and hate and it's not fit for such a pure soul as Five, but the others need him.

"I can't go out there...!" He's shivering slightly, glancing around the room as if something were going to jump out at him from anywhere.

"Five..." He says again, this time softer. Five looks up at him, almost reluctant to listen because he knows this man, his creator, is going to convince him to go outside and he knows, deep down, he hasn't got a choice and the futility of the situation makes it even more hopeless.

"Do you trust me?"

Five looks vacant for a moment, before his expression shifts into something a bit more serious. He glances downwards at his feet and nods.

"I know it will be scary for you, but the others will give you the courage you need, I guarantee it. They'll be your family." He leans down and offers him a smile, because Five genuinely trusts him wholeheartedly and he can't let him down.

Five thinks this over for a moment and the creator can see a small smile etch onto his face. Just like the prospect of knowledge had been appealing to the twins, the prospect of a family is appealing to Five.

"Everything's going to be okay, right? In the end?" He sounds uncertain and the creator doesn't want to lie to him...

"It will be, because you and the others will make it okay. I believe you will."

It's not a lie, that's for sure...but things might not be okay as quick as Five would like.

But it's enough to calm Five down. He looks as if he might be okay with this situation. He has an advantage, after all; they all do. They're small, agile and speedy. They aren't easily spotted and that will provide safety.

"Are you going to be okay?"

The question takes him aback, but it's just further proof of how genuinely pure-hearted Five is. He's proud he's managed to create such a being. That's enough to temporarily quell the fear of the war beyond the walls of his workshop.

"I'll be okay. You must focus on yourselves for now."

Five nods, optics full of doubt, but it's clear he has more to say...

"...Will we ever see you again?" He asks as if he's already found the others, but in all honesty, he's sure the others would ask the same question.

But there's no way around it. He can't dance around the truth about it. He hasn't the heart to lie to him.

"No."

"...oh."

It's clear to see Five had already expected the answer but accepting it is another thing entirely. It's silent, even with the ruckus of the war outside. It sounds far more distant than it actually is. It feels like being in a glass tank along with the feeling of powerlessness that accompanies it.

"I will...find others, won't I?" He's trying his utmost to be positive and it's an admirable trait and easy to identify with, because the creator, although his situation is beyond hopeless, still possesses positivity that the future will be better than the present.

"I know you will. And if you can't find them, then they will find you."

It's enough to bring a smile from the doll.

"You'll never be alone in this world, Five. There will always be people out there like you. You just have to find them."

Five nods, because once more, the prospect of friends, of family, is overwhelming the cons of the situation.

"I'll find them..." His voice his shaky, but the words are real. He trusts the creator; he will find friends. He will find family.

"You will."

The smile widens.

"Then I guess I'll go...now..." He glances towards the door and back up at the creator's waiting hand. He lifts him down steadily and sets him down on the floor.

But before Five leaves, he looks back.

"You're...family too, aren't you?" His hand rests on his chest, atop the section of his body that contains his soul. It's quivering under the fabric and he can feel an odd connection with the old human before him.

The human can feel it too.

"Of course."

"So...I guess this is goodbye forever...?"

His voice trembles.

The creator smiles.

"We may never meet again, but it'll never be goodbye forever. You should know that."

He, too, rests a hand atop his heart, to match his newest creation. Five realises there's more to their connection than just creator and creation...

He slips out before he can figure out how.


	5. Six

This one had taken more out of him than the rest; even more so than the twins. He had to sleep but he could stave it off just a little longer. Long enough to witness the awakening of his sixth creation.

6

Six was odd. Like Two, Six was mismatched in a appearance, but more in optics than fabric. In all honesty, the mismatched optics were down to his dwindling supplies. He needed more parts to continue creating the dolls and he had no doubt his colleagues would be able to acquire such parts, but now it was a matter of time.

But he couldn't cease working, not even for a second, so he'd had to make do with what he could find in his workshop. From the moment the creator had installed Six's right optic, he knew this one was going to be an odd one.

As an odd compensation for the oversized right optic, he'd gifted Six with a tuft of hair; something the other creations lacked.

He'd had to admit, while Six lay motionless in his palm, he did look incredibly extraordinary. Another feature, alongside his oversized right optic and his tuft of yarn hair, were his fingers that the creator had fashioned out of multiple pen nibs. Thought he felt slightly less guilt about the fingers than he did about the optic, because at least the fingers could serve a purpose.

The thought disappeared as quick as it came as Six opened his eyes.

A grin immediately etched onto the creators face. For some odd reason, this little one seemed to be his favourite. Of course, he had a deep affection for all of his creations, but this one was special. He didn't necessarily know how just yet, but he had a feeling.

Six looked up at him with his wide, mismatched optics. He blinked a couple of times, and the creator almost burst into laughter, because the differing size of his optics affected it; when he blinked, his right optic was a little slow on the uptake, and usually followed the left one about half a second after.

This one was definitely a strange one.

Luckily, Six didn't register the creator's snort as offence, and instead, smiled back at him.

"Hello, Six." He greeted, with a chuckle.

Six waved back with his odd fingers. "Hi..." He trailed, quietly.

And then, he surprised the creator.

"Where are they...?" He looked around with wide optics and out of sync blinks. For a moment, the creator wasn't sure who 'they' were. Did he mean the others?

"Do...you mean the others?" He asked, gently. Six responded rather slowly; it took him a few moments to nod in response. "Yeah..."

The creator was surprised he already knew about the others. He'd been awake for less than two minutes and was already about to leave the house. He smiled, ruefully; remembering the creations that had left before. "They've already left. You've got to go and catch up with them." He informed, and was rather pleased when Six nodded, passively. "Mhm...but..."

"But?"

"...what about the big thing?"

The creator looked down at him questioningly. "The...big thing?"

"Yeah, yeah! The big thing!" He stretched his arms out for emphasis. "You know! The bad thing!" He was becoming increasingly worried and it was apparent he was more worried about his point not getting across rather than the actual 'bad thing' he was referring to.

"Six, why-...why don't you draw what you mean? I'm afraid I'm rather tired..." He rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses as he pushed a small scrap of paper towards Six. Six immediately brightened at the sight of the scrap and practically crawled towards it as the creator also pushed a near-empty inkwell next to him.

Immediately, he dunked his hand in the inkwell and his fingers scratched against the paper; concentration etched onto his soft features. It brought fond memories of the twins to mind.

The creator watched Six work and the moment he began to doze off, Six lifted the piece of paper. He forced his eyelids open and leant down to inspect the tiny drawing. Suddenly, he was woken up by a cold feeling in his stomach.

The machine. It was the machine. His creation, warped under the control of the government and the chancellor.

How did Six know already? He hadn't even told him!

"S-Six...how did you know about this?"

Six shrugged rather casually, looking down at his picture with pride. "I dunno. I can just see it in here." He pointed to his head, and closed his optics tightly for emphasis. "I close my eyes and I can see it."

The creator silently contemplated exactly what that meant. He, himself, wasn't exactly a picture of perfect mental health; he'd been plagued with nightmares for longer than he could remember now but he wasn't hallucinating.

If he had been hallucinating then the Six sat in front of him may very well be an illusion, and the thought of having to rebuild each of his little creations sent a stab of demotivation into his heart.

As for Six, it was mildly worrying. He knew from the offset Six wouldn't be able to slot into a place in the world like the others could. He would be an odd-shaped puzzle piece in an even-shaped puzzle. He wouldn't fit naturally; a concept reminiscent of his own childhood, he supposed.

But on the other hand, it would give them an advantage. He didn't know the exact extent of Six's visions and possible hallucinations (if that were even possible for homunculus made of metal and fabric) but he was sure they would be of use, even if it were in a slightly unhelpful way.

"Six..." He began, as he plucked a small, circular device from the machine Six had previously been hooked up to, like the others before him. He held up the metal piece carefully. "Do you know what this is?"

Six looked far more mesmerised that he expected; had he seen it before?

Instead, he knelt down, optics fixated on the small metal device, as he began to etch the symbols onto the paper. "It...made me..." He managed to say, through his unbreakable concentration.

Well he supposed he was right. It was certainly a valuable piece which took part in his creation process, but he had the feeling Six didn't know the full extent of it. Maybe...it was better to keep it that way.

"I daresay it did." He smiles. "You could say it was the source of your being." He didn't want to tell him outright it was used to extract a piece of his own soul to implant into his body. In fact, he wasn't sure if he'd told any of his creations of that matter. Except...except maybe Five.

"The...source...?" Six echoed, brokenly. His mind could've been completely blank, or running at a mile a minute for all the creator knew.

"Yes. I..." He stopped.

He'd been planning to save this for the last creation, which he was now certain it would be the ninth. He would record it. Leave it for Nine to see, in his absence. Of course, he'd still carry out that plan, after all, he was sure it would be up to the final one...

"Six..." He began, seriously, and Six looked up from his drawing. "...this is a very important piece. You must remember this, for the sake of your companions. It's vital you do not let this piece fall into the hands of the BRAIN."

Well...technically it was the Fabrication Machine now...but the very title depressed him. His own creation...warped beyond repair, he was sure.

"The source..." Six echoed. He scratched another set of symbols onto the already full piece of paper. The scientist nodded, firmly. "It will be up to the final one of you to retrieve this. To keep it safe. Do not let the others forget this."

An uncharacteristic look of determination spread across Six's mismatched features.

"The source..." He mumbled, clutching the paper close. "I have to tell them." He looked up at the creator. "I have to tell them."

The creator smiled down at the tiny creation, before helping him down onto the floor. In his rush of determination, Six scurried towards the door, before-

He stopped. He turned around. He looked...oddly pained.

"What...if I forget?" He clutched the paper tighter, almost enough for it to ruin the pictures. "Who'll remember if I forget...?"

"You will not forget."

"B-But...I...I..." If he were able to, the creator was sure he'd be on the verge of tears. He seemed mortified at the very thought of forgetting. In a good way, it seemed as if Six had found his own place in the world. His own role to carry out. He was terrified of failing to carry out that role, clearly.

The creator could empathise.

He smiled, silently reassuring the small doll. "Well..." His hands delved over his collar and under his shirt, and Six watched him, a perplexed look on his tiny face.

It wasn't until the creator brandished a small key, and held it out to Six. Six was about a head taller than the key, which really put into perspective just how tiny his creations were. He worried about that during the longer nights.

"Here..."

Six stared at the key. He made no move to take it.

"It belongs to me. I want you to keep it with you; that way when you look at the key, you'll remember me and when you remember me, you'll remember the source."

"I...will? Will I?" He jumped slightly in his spot. He seemed as if he were edging to take the key, but a voice of doubt prevented him from doing so. Would it really work?

"I promise you. It won't fail you."

Six took the key.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

The creator watched Six gaze at the key; he seemed far more relaxed now. He lifted the keyring and, to the creator's surprise, placed it around his neck. He looked up at the creator with a innocent smile.

"It fits."

"Indeed it does."

"I'll remember the source, won't I?"

"You won't forget it."

"And...I'll remember you, won't I?"

"I guarantee you will."

Six paused.

"Will you remember me?"

The creator smiled.

"I'll never forget."


	6. Seven

He was surprised how quickly he'd made this one. All the practice of making the previous creations had it's advantages. It was taking less and less time to efficiently create a doll, but the process of gifting it it's soul was still harsh and unforgiving.

He'd forgotten that every time he'd made one.

He didn't hold this one like he had the others. He'd unhooked it, and left it on the table for it to wake up on it's own. He was becoming increasingly more exhausted; he wasn't sure if he could even make two more at this rate.

But he had to. He had no choice. The thought in his mind raced past when the small doll opened it's eyes.

7

Seven immediately shot up onto his feet, though something seemed a little off. He gazed up at the creator with interest, but judging from his stance, the creator could tell he was ready to attack when necessary. The creator smiled.

"Hello, Seven." He greeted. Seeing all of his new creations come to life really melted away some of the stress and exhaustion, even if it were for a minute or so.

Seven paused, before replying.

"Hello."

Huh...?

Had he heard right?

He leant over slightly. "Uh...Seven, do you mind speaking once more?"

Seven looked rather perplexed, but complied nonetheless. "Uh, sure." She gave an odd wave. "Hello..."

The creator looked taken aback for about six seconds, before relaxing into warm laughter. "Ah, of course. My apologies, Seven. I may have assumed you were male from the offset, although there did seem to be something else about you."

Seven looked momentarily surprised, before shrugging; an odd smile played at her lips. "Uh...you didn't know I was going to be a female?"

"Well, no. All of my previous creations up until now have all been male. I do apologise, it was wrong of me to assume."

Seven, however, took no offence. She chuckled lightly.

"Well I guess if all of your creations turned out to be male, you'd make that mistake." Looking at her now, while she was alive, she did have a feminine aura. That wasn't to say to acted overly feminine, after all, he had mistaken her for a male, but she had a kind of refreshing feeling about her.

"I'm...kinda curious. You really didn't know I was going to be female until now, right?"

"That...is correct." Where was she going with this?

"So...that means even though you made us, you made me, you still don't really have control over a part of how you made us."

She was most definitely observant; an important trait. He was sure she would be invaluable to her companions.

"You are correct. Technically speaking, you all come from me. Your source of life stems from my own. You're a piece of me." He thought back to Six's awakening, where it had dawned on him how he'd never informed any of the others about just how they had been made. Where they had come from.

"So...even though you made us and our source of life comes from you; you still didn't know I was going to be a girl?" She grinned, playfully.

"It's almost like having children in that aspect. You never really know what you're going to get."

"But I guess that means though you're a man, part of you is feminine?" She gestured to herself. He had to admit, she raised some good questions.

"Seven. May I tell you an interesting fact?"

She ignored the swift change of topic, and nodded.

"Did you know that when babies, human babies, are developing, technically they all begin as female?"

Seven stared at him, oddly wide-eyed. "No...I didn't know that."

"Well it's all technically speaking. The sex of babies are determined by their chromosomes right from the offset, but they grow as female until they develop male organs. That's why men still have nipples, though we have no use for them at all. I'm no biologist, but it's all rather fascinating, isn't it?"

Seven smiled rather slyly. "Why are you telling me this?"

The creator returned the smile. "I just thought you'd might like to know. Perhaps you can use that information in the future." It felt like a odd inside joke between them. "Anyway, on a completely different note, I, for one, am very happy about your arrival. I hope you'll find your companions with ease."

Seven tilted her head. "My companions. They're all out there?" She gestured to the window. "Indeed they are."

"Is it dangerous outside?"

"Very, I'm afraid."

Seven didn't look afraid in the slightest. "I'll be fine, then." She said, as if the severity of the danger outside made it much easier for her. The creator couldn't suppress a chuckle; she was truly fearless. That fact was cemented when she vaulted from a stack of books and began making her way fluidly down to the floor.

"Then I guess I'll be heading out, then." Meeting Seven was certainly a lovely change of pace for the creator, not to mention it raised some rather interesting questions about the composition of his own soul, but he had no time to study. He had work to do.

"Good luck, Seven."

...

She had stopped. She turned back around, shuffling in her spot slightly.

"Um..."

"Is something the matter?" She'd been so full of confidence before.

"Mm...you mentioned all the other guys were...well, guys, right?" She was correct, every single one of his creations thus far had all been male.

"Um...they aren't gonna treat me differently because I'm a girl, right? Like...I don't want them to think I'm weak...because I'm a girl."

The creator sighed. The very society he'd lived in for years and years had managed to warp even his five minute old creations mind. He was disappointed that Seven could think that way.

"Seven, you must listen to me. The very idea that women are weak and inferior is just wrong and I know you know that. It's incorrect, and you will be the proof of that." He leant down towards her.

"You will play an important role in your group not because you are a female, but because you are fearless. You're confident. You're a born warrior, I can tell you and I trust that you will keep them safe. You must whip them into shape."

Seven cracked a smile.

"The entire idea of female inferiority was implemented by humans. Last time I checked, you aren't a human. Human ideology does not apply to you." He told her. "And when the time comes, I trust you will overhaul that idea completely."

She laughed, finally, and her confidence had been restored, much to his relief.

"And if any of my...companions thinks that I'm weak, then I'll prove them wrong."

"I'm sure you will do more than prove them wrong, Seven. I see much potential in you, like I saw in the rest of your kind. All of you need to work together to help us."

Seven turned back around in the direction of the door, and began walking with much more confidence in her strides. She displayed much more confidence than the others ever did. Each one of them hesitated, and she was no exception, but the creator knew there was something else fuelling her fire than the others.

"Good luck, to you, Seven."

She'd gone already.

He felt more hopeful than before.


	7. Eight

This had most certainly been a challenge.

Similar to the situation with Six, supplies had been lacking as of late, especially in the fabric department. The creator silently blamed himself on splurging a little when he created Seven, purely because he had the material to do so. He'd relished in being able to create a doll that wasn't mismatched or pieced together and had paid the price when it came to creating the next.

8

He was...large. Much larger than the others, because this one had a very specific duty amongst his companions. A duty which was very easy to distinguish from his body composition.

Eight was oddly quiet when he awoke. His optics opened, he sat up, he then stood up and that was that.

He had a naturally intimidating aura about him as well - one which was strengthened by his glare, his wide mouth curled downwards disapprovingly, yet he had nothing to be disapproving about. It was just how he is.

"H-Hello, Eight."

The creator couldn't help but stammer. Sure, he had built him to be a clump of muscle; someone to scare of their multitude of enemies, but he hadn't expected him to be this...scary.

He was a minute old and was already serving his purpose wonderfully.

Eight lifted an eyebrow - he looked unsure of what to say.

"Uh...hey."

His voice was certainly deeper than he had ever expected it to be, much more so than his own, which was growing raspy from age. It was another thing to add to the pile of what made Eight so utterly intimidating.

...

Through the awkward silence that settled over the room, the creator had to admit he didn't feel as connected to Eight as he had with the others. They had each looked up at him, with varying attitudes, and had conversed with him. They all treated him a bit differently but with Eight...

It felt like he was looking up at Eight.

He wasn't all too sure of what to say.

"...um..." Eight grunted, clearly trying to find a way to progress or, at the very least, prompting the creator to progress. "Why'm I here again...?"

Ah yes, he had forgotten. After all, he was merely here to explain the situation as it stood and tell them what their very end goal was, even if it were a little vague. He had grown so accustomed to learning about them and spending what very little precious time they had together wisely.

"Well...simply put, there's a war." He felt like he'd become mentally deficient. He couldn't keep making these. Not anymore, but he had one left to go.

Eight nodded silently, as if he already knew what to do. Maybe it was better to leave him to his own devices. Was that...really wise?

"Your companions are out there. I'm sure if you go out there, you will find them."

He almost felt guilty; it felt like he was pushing him out the door purely because he didn't know what else to tell him. It wasn't like he felt no connection with the massive hulk of fabricated muscle that was stood before him. He certainly did, because he was a part of his soul, but in other ways...

...there wasn't much there.

He sighed, quietly. Was this down to him own lack of mental welfare? Was he becoming too exhausted? He rested his head in his hands, fully expecting Eight to make his own way down and leave.

Only he hadn't.

...

"Uh...are you okay?"

He hadn't expected the question. He hadn't expected it at all. It was...oddly calming.

"I'm...not too sure. If I can be honest with you." He said, weakly.

Eight seemed to understand. He may not have been all too bright, but he could understand feelings with little words. That was a trait that made the creator happier than he could've thought.

"Um...are you dying?"

The question hit the creator like a train.

He'd been trying to stave off thoughts of his demise, his inevitable demise, soon to come in little less than a week, he was sure. He was going to die. He was going to die.

He sagged a little. The initial shock of the thought, the skipped heartbeat when he realised his time must come to an end had passed, thankfully. After all, he was old and when you grew old, death began to feel like a welcome respite. He'd been wandering this earth for many, many years. He was tired, unlike anything else. He'd welcome the eternal sleep that followed after a fulfilling life.

But there was always the little shock beforehand. The shock that made his blood run frozen solid. It was...unpleasant.

He didn't want to reply. He didn't want to admit that technically, he was dying, and even if he wasn't dying, he'd been dead soon anyway.

Luckily, he didn't have to.

Eight nodded, before slowly making his way to the stack of books that Seven had previously used to reach the floor. He was much slower than Seven, but he was...careful. It didn't seem in his nature and the creator wondered if he was trying to savour his time here by being a slow as possible.

The creator waited silently for the sounds of Eight's tiny footsteps to hit the wooden floorboards. It was like waiting for a bomb to drop. He felt like he may just shatter.

He tensed. Eight's first footstep onto the floor sent a shiver through him but he was too tired to flinch. He was too tired. He couldn't continue.

...

"Thanks..."

...

"You're...welcome..."

...

He'd already gone.


	8. Nine

This...was it. He was weak. Weak...was an understatement...

But he had to stay strong. He knew this was the end; the final piece of his soul to depart his body. It was his gift to him...

9

Nine.

He would be the one to save them all. He had to be.

If he could just...keep his eyes open...stay up...stay alive...long enough to watch his dear creation open it's eyes...

Please...

His nine little saviours...they would save the world, he had no doubt.

One, the grouchy leader with his old-fashioned ways and immeasurable stubborn streak...

Two, the kindly inventor, who would no doubt inspire his companions with his endless ingenuity...

Three and Four, the silent scholars, who were ready to educate the future of humanity on its past mistakes and much, much more...

Five, the innocent soul with his kindheartedness and boundless trust; he would be a friend to all...

Six, the mismatched visionary, whose artistic talent would enlighten those around him...

Seven, the fierce warrior, with her unmatched fearlessness and desire to defend those close to her and those not...

Eight, the hulking guard; an immovable wall of muscle and loyalty; he doesn't need intelligence to understand...

And Nine...

What would become of Nine? He just needed to stay alive...stay alive long enough to see the final pair of eyes open...to know...

He'll know then...

The world is turning black, for him and for the rest of humanity. Their numbers are dwindling, but those nine will bring light to that darkness...

The last dregs of his soul are pulled from his body...he needs to stay alive...just ten seconds...that's all he needs.

Ten...seconds...

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

6...

7...

8...

9...

...

He'd already gone.


End file.
